


Don't speak of Love

by NoizyKorat



Category: Dir en grey
Genre: Attempted Murder, Dysfunctional Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Infidelity, M/M, Mental Breakdown, One-Sided Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 12:23:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6423868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoizyKorat/pseuds/NoizyKorat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A once happy pair starts to turn one-sided, as one of them evolves, continuously losing his attraction to the other is stuck in the status quo. Yet he dares not to stand up for himself, to tell his lover what's bothering him and break that relationship off, afraid of risking their work relationship, since they're dependent on tight teamwork in business.<br/>So instead, he opts to build walls of pretend es, to hide his true life behind, but he can't shake off the feeling of being caged. <br/>As his counterpart starts to catch on what's going on, the frustration builds to a point where none of them can't take it anymore, and their whole life blows up along with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't speak of Love

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Dir en Grey (haha, I wish I would, believe me), and this work is pure fiction with no claim of presenting real facts. I do not wish to offend anyone with this, or infringe on their rights. Also I don't earn a single penny from this.
> 
> This is ancient, so probably pretty low standart, and self-betaed, so there may be a good portion of mistakes in there.  
> Also, dear Toshiya fans, I'm very sorry how bad I made him look, and am awake it may be horribly OOC. It's nothing personal, the pairing and story just popped up on me, and I found the idea kinda interessting.  
> If you still want to read it, I hope you'll enjoy anyway.   
> If you find fault or odd passages you'd like me to fix, you're very welcome to let me know, I'm always up for feedback. Thank you!

How this could have come so far?   
Actually I don't even understand it myself.   
Yes, probably I could just have packed my stuff and gone away. Just somewhere, far away. Especially from him.   
But things weren't this easy.   
Might be that I only suggest this to myself, but I had responsibility. After all, I was the leader of a Number One band. Leaving them just like that wouldn't have been possible. I wouldn't have been able to stand back, watching my heart blood crumble and vanish into nothing. You might say it isn't any different now, but it is.   
I didn't leave them, I was torn away from them.   
Maybe it was my fault, maybe not, I don't even care.   
I'm just glad that I don't have to put up with him anymore. Once, I'd loved him, with all his little ticks, but after such a long time it just became too much to bear. We weren't close anymore, we were drifting apart. I've changed a lot in the past years. He didn't. Not the slightest. It annoyed me to a degree one can't imagine.   
It was the same, all day.

 

When I sat up to the alarm clock's beeping in the morning, he'd open his eyes and flash me a sleepy smile, that makes me want to wince in disgust. Then he'd yawn out his morning greetings while stretching, before trying to pull me down for one of his sloppy kisses, and all times I'd hurriedly wriggle out of his grasp and excuse myself to the bathroom.   
As soon as I was standing in the shower, he'd sneak in behind me. He'd start applying soup on me without being asked to and tease me until I can't stand it anymore and allow him to give me the blow job he's so keen on - not that he's good at it, though -.   
Right after I'm done, I'd step out of the shower and get myself ready without a single word.   
When I'm dressing myself, he'd scoot into the room with a disturbingly happy smile, as if nothing had happened and ask me if I want some coffee.   
Even though I always decline, he'd push a huge mug of coffee into my hands as soon as I enter the dining room. I'd mumble a thank you, simply because I was raised to politeness, pretending to take a hearty swing of the awfully watery stuff as I quickly vanish into the kitchen where I'd deliver the stuff into the sink right away.   
I'd return with a cookie hanging from my mouth, grab my jacket, keys and guitar case, slamming the door shut behind me after giving him a little farewell wave.   
As soon as I'm outside I'd spit the yucky, sugary thing into the nearest wastebasket, wiping my lips and violently shake my head to ease the almost nauseating disgust the sight of him gives me, before climbing into the car, disposing my guitar case on the backseat.   
It might seem strange to you, that I never took him with me, even though our way is exactly the same.   
If I did he'd chat the whole time, or turn the radio on full blast, singing along with everything that's that on, almost painfully off-key.   
My nerves simply wouldn't last through this.   
I was thankful for this little half an hour break.

The first thing I'd do at the studio would be to smoke a couple of badly needed cigarettes to calm myself down and gather some concentration for the day, before tuning my guitar and deciding on what we needed to practice that day.  
He was always one of the last to join in, shortly before Mr. Sleepy, and I was so thankful, because as soon as he was in the studio he'd literally be sticking to me as if he'd fallen into a pool of glue.   
He'd be babbling and giggling nonchalantly, whatever I was doing. I'd usually busy myself with ominous stuff, pretending to concentrate fully on it, in my fruitless attempts to ignore his annoying presence, but I'd still give a fake smile now and then to cover the fact that I wasn't paying attention at all.   
During practice, he'd continuously stare at me, with this strange, dreamy expression, which drove me almost to the edge of an outburst of fury.   
After such long time he knew damn well that I hate being stared at, and to make the disaster perfect, he'd intentionally make mistakes, just to get some attention. This was usually the point I lost it and screamed at him until he'd run out on the verge of tears, and I'd stump outside, fuming with rage, to try calming myself with a smoke.   
As soon as I was back, he'd sit on the practice room's couch again, his eyes still red and puffy from crying but with his makeup redone and a sheepish smile on his face. He'd apologize for his behaviour in an untypical calm way, pick his bass up, and do nothing but smile this awfully fake smile and play with shaky hands, his eyes cast to the floor.   
What a pathetic view! 

After practice I'd send him home with the excuse of still having work to do at the studio and he'd obey without questioning.   
Mostly I'd indeed stay at the studio and work on sheet music until I can barely keep my eyes open, just to be away from him, but there were times when I didn't feel like working and decided to take a little break from my every day life.   
I'd wait until he was gone for sure and get into my car. I'd go to the beach for a long walk and enjoy the silence, watch a movie at the cinema, do some body building in the fitness studio until I almost pass out, or I'd enjoy some wellness programs, but no matter what I did, I always got home as late as possible, in the hope he'd already be fast asleep and won't bother me. 

Whether I came home, there was dinner for me on the table, but I'd always pack it into plastic bags and dump it somewhere the next day, since I'd been sick for days the last time I ate one of his meals.   
Whenever he wasn't still awake and made me watch some sappy movie with him, I'd soundlessly tiptoe into the bedroom and carefully slip in beside him, as not to wake him. Somehow though, he always noticed my presence and pressed himself against me in the most offensive way, causing me many sleepless nights and nightmares I wouldn't want to wish anyone.   
If I was completely unlucky he'd wake up, and pounce me like a hungry cat. He'd fondle me and whisper sweet nothings into my ear, until I pinned him to the mattress and screwed him senseless.   
I really hated to do that, but it was the only thing I could do to make him leave me alone for the rest of the night, so I could have at least a bit of rest. Usually I'd think of everything but him, to fight my urge to throw up. 

 

I spent long years trying to live with him like that, but with every new month my dislike for him, and my wish for freedom grew more and more, until I was no longer able to control it.   
All I wanted was to get him away from me, no matter how. And so, the disaster became inevitable. 

 

It all began with the rather unspectacular wish to revive my boring everyday routine.   
I needed some way to let off steam, and desperately wanted to meet new people as I was so tired of always having the same faces around me. I needed some fun and some action, so I started going out.   
First I only went to dance in some disco or drunk my ass off in a random pub, but with the time, that and even the casinos and strip-clubs became boring.   
What I really needed was a good lay now and then, because what I and Toshiya had could merely be called satisfying, at least for me.   
This is, how I came to my habit of spending long, passion-filled nights at random motels with ominous upper-class call boys.   
They taught me a lot about myself, or better to say my preferences.   
Slowly I lost all shame and became completely malicious.  
For so long I've kept playing nice on him, but this was over now. 

I invited my 'dates' over to our place, whenever I wanted, even if I knew he'd see.   
Any time he walked in on us, he'd get a nice view of me being pleasured by pretty, young men and I'd give him an extra show of enjoying myself, while looking straight into his watering eyes.   
This wasn't everything though.   
I'd yell at him any time I felt like it, even if I didn't have a particular reason, I'd shove him around if he was in my way, if he cocked me one of his gross meals, I'd throw it right after him, and sometimes if I completely lost it, I'd even beat him.   
Whether he wanted sex, I'd take him mercilessly, until he screamed, whispering the meanest things into his ear, which I hadn't been able to speak out before, with a voice, that'd sent a cold shiver down anyone's spine.   
If he tried to fight me, I'd tie him up.   
I did whatever I wanted, and I no longer gave a fuck if I hurt him. Actually I loved to see the fear in his eyes and his shocked expression when I looked into his tear stained face, I loved hearing him scream and cry out in pain, begging for me to stop, simply, I loved knowing him in pain.   
Sometimes I'd even have fantasies about torturing and killing him in ways unheard of in brutality, and I got off on them like nobody's business.   
I became addicted of being his misery. 

For a long time, he didn't dare to do anything.   
He accepted everything I did wordlessly, let me have my will, and would even smile bravely through his tears once he got over the initial shock, but this one unfaithful day he let himself get carried away.   
A dreadful mistake I couldn't let pass. 

 

It was about late afternoon, and he came home from a shopping trip with Shinya, freezing with his usual horrified expression and teary eyes, as he saw me sprawled across the couch with one of my call boys giving me one hell of blow job.   
As always, I raised my head to lock eyes with him as soon as I heard the door, moaning loudly, pressing the boys head even closer.   
For a couple of moments I just pulled the usual show, until suddenly I had the urge to say something to him. "Hmmh.. Toshiya... won't you come over? He could teach you a lot you know...", I half gasped, half moaned, arching my back provocatively.   
Upon that, he went stony-faced and before I even knew he had already grabbed the boy by his hair, pulling him off me, before he hauled him at the floor in an amazing show of strength, yelling at him to get lost.   
The poor boy stared up at him in shock, before quickly gathering his stuff to hurry out, obviously afraid of Toshiya's sudden outburst.   
Even I was looking like a stunned mullet, as I had expected all, but that.   
Before I could even protest, I had already caught myself a punch in the face.   
He stood over me, literally fuming with rage, railing against me what a horrible person I'd be, etc, blablah.   
I was still holding my face, unable to believe that he'd really dared to hit me, as I felt my blood beginning to boil.   
None raises a hand against Niikura Kaoru and gets away with it!   
I raised myself from the couch and slowly approached him. Suddenly I lunged at him, catching him by the hair, pulling him close.   
"What are you trying to do, bitch?", I hissed at him, voice dangerously low, glaring daggers at him.   
He opened and closed his mouth several times, failing to speak.   
"Who do you think you're messing with? It seems I have to teach you a lesson you won't forget. I'm gonna kill you, fucking brat!", I barked, tightening my grip on his hair, pushing him forward.   
He looked at me with big, fearful eyes, frantically shaking his head, trying to back away.   
This is where my memory ends.   
I know nothing until the moment I came to, sitting on the floor, laughing like a madman, with the police marching in. 

 

My greatest fantasy has come true, and here I sit, in this sterile, white room, unable to remember a thing, no matter how much I strain my brains.   
Things like that drive one up the walls, don't they?   
I've often tried to ask them how I did it, but they'd only shake their head with a pitiful expression and stroke my hair, mumbling things like, "Poor Kaoru, you must miss him so much", and "I know this must be very hard for you, but you shouldn't blame yourself, yes?".   
I really wonder what they're talking about.   
Why would I grief someone I hated?   
I killed him, and I'm proud of it!   
I don't need someone to tell me how to forget, I need someone to tell me how to remember.   
But they don't understand...   
They never will...


End file.
